


More Things In Heaven And Earth

by EatingFeathers



Category: The Dresden Files (TV), The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Banter, Dry Humping, F/M, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Not a whole lot of plot, Nurse!Ofc, Nurse!Reader, POV First Person, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Smut, Sweet Harry Dresden, sort of slow anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatingFeathers/pseuds/EatingFeathers
Summary: There I was, minding my own business, napping on my couch in the middle of the night in south Chicago, when the one and only Harry Dresden, arsonist extraordinaire, knocked on my door. Shenanigans ensue, because they always do around Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/OFC, Harry Dresden/Original Female Character, Harry Dresden/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BirdOfHermes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdOfHermes/gifts).



> This fic is thanks to a short prompt given to me by BirdOfHermes, and is therefore entirely her fault.  
> Go read her stuff too, she's pretty great.

Chicago is a crazy place. I’ve seen a lot of shit in my time as a nurse. Some of it is good; there’s a lot of good in Chicago. Most of it is very bad; there’s...dear God, is there a lot of bad in Chicago. That’s the nature of big cities, though. They’re dangerous places for anybody who can’t protect themselves. 

And apparently, also for people who can protect themselves. 

Logically, I knew there was a professional wizard in the area. Logically, it followed that if he was really a wizard, then magic was real and probably so was monsters. 

Emotionally, I was unprepared for a smoldering pile of wizard to crawl across the street and bang on my door with what appeared to be his last amount of energy.

And I was definitely emotionally unprepared for what looked like a minotaur--yes, that kind of minotaur--charging at me when I opened the door to figure out who the hell knocks on a person’s door at 2 in the morning in Hegewisch, Chicago. I may have shrieked. Listen, it’s not every day that you get violently introduced to ancient Greek mythological beasts across the street from an elementary school playground. 

There was a disgruntled noise at my feet as I stood in my doorway, shocked. “Breathes fire. Got a gun? I’m out of ammo.” 

“Do I have a--excuse me, I don’t think guns work on  _ minotaurs _ , dude. You need, like, a sword or something, right? Or, like, wax wings, or a ball of golden string, or--”

Just before the minotaur got to us, Harry Dresden, professional wizard and sometime kindling, shouted, “APARTUM!” The beast’s eyes went wide, and then it disappeared through what seemed to be some kind of window or door to...somewhere that was not my predominantly Polish-descended neighborhood. Harry closed the...the door? to wherever before rolling over and coughing up blood on my doorstep. 

My nurse brain kicked back in as he did so. “Christ in a handbasket, dude, are you alright?” I helped him stand up, and he immediately collapsed back down to the ground. 

“That’ll be…” He coughed again. “That’ll be a resounding no. I’m not sure how much experience you have with wild fae, but there’s something unusually awful about the fire-breathing ones.” He tried to take a deep breath, but failed miserably. 

I got an arm under him as he continued to cough. “I’m a nurse, I’ll take you to the hosp--”

“No hospitals. Just take...just take me home. No hospitals.” He limped with me over to my car and I leaned him against it. 

“Why no hospitals?” I started checking him for obvious gashes or third degree burns with a practiced eye, but I didn’t see anything that wouldn’t become a simple inconvenience by tomorrow. “And how do you fight a fire-breathing mancow thing and walk away--sorry, limp away,” I corrected after he threw me a dirty look, “with nothing but minor burns and a coat that looks like it was on fire at least twice?”

“Magic. Breaks electronics. Can’t go into a hospital. People there might die.” His sentences were short, and his breathing was labored. He didn't answer my second question. He leaned his head back on the car and lifted his shirt. “Does this look bad?”

One, two, three, four...five...six abs? Nah, he looked great. I shook my head to clear it. I had a job to do that did not involve ogling him. There was a gash on the side of his stomach, but it wasn’t deep. I reached out and touched his ribs carefully, inspecting what was going to be a very colorful bruise tomorrow. “Did it kick you?” I asked as he inhaled sharply.

“Yeah, the bastard. Snuck up on me. Is it broke, doc?” His sentences continued to be short, but his breathing was getting more even as (I assumed) he got used to the pain. 

“No, I don’t think so. It’s just gonna hurt for a bit. You’re gonna be real pretty tomorrow.”

“You’re real pretty today.”

We both froze and stared at each other without blinking for too long.

“I know pain makes people stupid. I didn’t know it made them blind, too,” I said, with a nervous chuckle.

“My eyes are just about the only part of me still working just fine. Despite being thrashed and bruised, and also kicked in the ribs and set on fire briefly, my eyes are working perfectly. I can't think of a prettier woman to have nurse fantasies about for the rest of my unnatural life."

"Your brain is mush and I'm quite sure you don't know what you're saying. Give me your address before you pass out, wizard."

"How'd you know I was a wizard?" he asked, his expression of confusion almost comical.

"The magic was a pretty good giveaway. Address," I repeated, opening the car door next to him.

He gave it to me, and my hand slipped off his arm in shock. He tanked forward headfirst, slamming into the center console with a shout. 

Well, more like a whimper. He didn’t have the energy to shout. I did, though, and cried, “Harry, shit! I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I guess I just recognized the area and got spooked. I'm so sorry," I repeated. 

We got him settled into his seat without further injury, and he fixed me with a dour look. "I don't usually let girls give me severe head trauma until they've bought me dinner first. You owe me, Nurse Ratchet."

"I deserve that," I said with a laugh. "How do you feel about pierogies? Home-cooked, not frozen."

He rubbed his newest bruise and tried to smile. "A pretty nurse just offered to cook for me. I should get beat up on the south side more often." Then he leaned his head back on the seat of my Honda and began to snore.

Gee, it was a good thing I got his address before I knocked him out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader takes Harry back to his swanky apartment, and they have a long chat about the world Harry lives in.

I pulled up to a parking lot with a security guard and attempted to jostle my companion awake. "Harry, we're here, you gotta wake up so we can get in." 

"You can't be my father, that's impossible!" he muttered angrily without opening his eyes. 

Great. He got blood on my porch, dented my center console, and now he sleep talks. This was definitely not how I expected my night to go. "Harry, you clod, security guard? Apartment? Bandaging your wounds?" He just snored aggressively.

The guard got my attention. "I know him. Go on in. You'll still need him to get into the building, though. Good luck. Tell him to drink less next time."

I smiled at the guard. "I'll be sure to do that." I drove through the gate, finding a spot near a door. I didn't want to have to carry him any farther than I had to. I turned the car off and stared at him for a minute. It was the first chance I'd really had to just look, since the minotaur woke me up an hour ago.

Harry wasn't what you might call conventionally attractive, but there was a ruggedness in his features that spoke to me. His jawline went on for miles, and so did his neck. His dark hair was on the longer side and disheveled, even worse now than it probably was normally. 

In sleep, there was a peacefulness in his features that was likely never there in his waking hours. I could sit here and just look at him for hours, memorizing his features for the eventual day when he walked out of my life...probably with as much ceremony and propriety as he'd stumbled into it.

But he probably had a concussion, so I needed to wake him up.

I got up and walked around my car, opening his door and leaning in to release his seatbelt.

The click must have flipped a switch in his brain, because he woke up, grabbed my neck in one hand and my shoulder in the other, and faster than should have been physically possible pushed me out of the car. He pinned me against the back door, all six foot odd of him pressed against me.

It wasn't the first time I'd been grabbed like this, but usually there were drugs involved, and there were always orderlies around to help. Now, I was alone, and Harry Dresden was...sniffing...my neck?

"You smell good. What's your name, girl?" His voice was deeper than I expected, almost like it wasn't him anymore. His breath against my neck was cold, somehow, and it caused my whole body to shiver. He made a humming noise in response.

I gulped against his fingers, and they tightened for the briefest second around my neck. I gave him my name, stumbling over it in shock. How had we missed that part of our introduction earlier?

Not all of my shock, it should be noted, was unpleasant. Some of what I was feeling was very pleasant indeed, especially the parts of me closest to his middle. He seemed to be enjoying holding me here, as well, judging by the way he was pressing something solid into my hip.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl." He moved to press his lips to the other side of my neck, rubbing my jaw with his thumb. I touched his side, a reflex I couldn’t help brought on by the somehow sensual aggression.

He pulled his head back and blinked suddenly, then practically jumped back from me. I slumped a little against the car, rubbing my neck and trying not to feel devastated by his absence. "Stars and stones, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--I'm not--that wasn't--" He looked genuinely apologetic, and I couldn't help but put my hand on his arm.

"Harry, it's alright. You didn't hurt me. It'll take more than a little manhandling to hurt me or my feelings." I stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his unbruised side. "Let's get you inside and cleaned up, then we can talk about it."

“Inside. Yeah, inside is a good idea. Great plan.” He stood straighter (why did some men think it was alright to be seven feet tall?) and brushed his coat off, causing dust and bits of crispy leather to fall to the ground. 

After taking a moment to grab my bag from the trunk, I put my arm around him very carefully and helped him to the door. He was standing straighter after his little nap, and it looked like he was in less pain. As he opened the door, I asked, “Does your magic let you heal quickly?”

He looked down at me, and I realized there was a cut on his cheek that I hadn’t seen in the car. There was something unreadable in his eyes. “Yes and no. I’ve got...That is, I’m…” He sighed deeply and disentangled himself from me to go through a door. “See, the simple explanation is that I sold my soul to a fairie queen in exchange for not being a cripple. The powers she gave me heal me a little faster than normal, but mostly I can just ignore pain entirely, to an extent.”

I nodded at his back as we went down some stairs. “That seems useful.” 

“It can be. It doesn’t increase my ability to be strong, but it makes it easier to train longer and harder, so I’m stronger and faster than a normal person my size would be.” He came to a stop in front of his apartment door. "Well, this is me, thanks for the ride. Do, uh…" He paused, rubbing the back of his neck hesitantly in a gesture I couldn't help but recognize.

"You need to have your wounds cleaned and bandaged. You’re not getting out of this without giving me coffee, wizard boy.” I smiled up at him sweetly, fully prepared to hit his bruise to disable him if I had to. It worked on normal people, anyway.

He adopted a look of fake offense. “Excuse you, I’m 39 years old. That’s wizard  _ man  _ to you, missy.” He opened the door. “I hope you like disgusting opulence. My app--” Harry stopped dead with his back to me. I couldn’t see his face, but his shoulders slumped like he’d stumbled across a memory that caused him serious pain. I touched his shoulder carefully, and he allowed it. “My...former apprentice owns the apartment,” he said slowly, every word sounding like a skewer in his heart. “It’s been almost three years. I don’t know why I forget sometimes.” He was so quiet I almost couldn’t hear him.

“What happened?” I asked just as quietly, closing the door behind me. The place really was ostentatious, but somehow not overdone. The designers must have been at the top of their field.

He laughed shortly, an angry sound. “I didn’t do my job, three people died, and she got promoted to fairy queendom.” He stepped away from me, pulling his coat off with a grimace. “The Winter Mantle, the powers that the Winter Queen gave me, makes me stronger, and it makes me faster, and it makes me lose myself sometimes. If I hadn’t let it get control that day, three good people would still be alive. And Molly would still be human. She’d still be my Molly. My apprentice.” He sneered at a painting on the wall like it was responsible for his poor decisions. “Hell’s bells, I hate my life.”

I looked away from his face to see that at some point, the gash on his side had tried to paint his entire leg red. “God, Harry, what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me you were bleeding again?” I set my bag down and started pulling supplies out--any good inner city nurse had a trauma kit everywhere they could fit one. “Get your clothes off and grab, I don’t know, a tarp or a towel or something, whatever you have. Lay down somewhere. We’ve got to get you stitched up, and I need to do something about that rib.” I continued to list things that we needed to gather, and it wasn’t until I had all of my tools laid out on the coffee table that I realized he hadn’t moved. “Harry?”

"Why are you being so helpful? Is this some kind of misguided 'do no harm' thing?"

"First of all, ingrate," I said, not sure if i was joking or not, "no one says 'do no harm' anymore. That's a misinterpretation of a mistranslation. Second, I'm not a doctor, I'm a nurse. About the only thing I can't do is replace an organ, and cleaning up accident-prone wizards is basically what I trained to do." I took a deep breath. "And three, as long as I'm focused on fixing what's wrong with you, I don't have spare brainpower to completely melt down in a panic from how crazy your world seems to be, because minotaurs and magic and fairy queens and apartments that look like they were built for royalty is so far outside of my comfort zone it's not funny." I looked at the floor, no longer able to meet his eyes. 

"Oh, hell's bells, I'm an idiot. I'm sorry. I--” He stepped towards me, but I moved back just enough to avoid his hand.

“Shirt and pants off. If your legs aren’t hurt, you can put new pants on, but I want every scratch, bruise, and abrasion visible so I can clean it. You went scraping around on the ground in Chicago. Hegewisch is a nice place, as burbs go, but it’s still Chicago and I know of at least three crackheads that live within a block of that school.” I didn’t look at him as I turned away to find a bathroom. I heard him move behind me as I entered the hallway, and he turned into a room before I did.

The bathroom door was open, and I stood in front of the mirror for a minute. I had blood in my hair, courtesy of the wizard, and I was pretty sure my pants would be ruined. I wondered if he knew any good spells to get blood out. I liked these pajamas. My eyes looked so tired. I mean, it was the middle of the night, and my sleep had been interrupted by the fight with the minotaur, so I wasn’t surprised I looked like a bog witch, but the knowledge still stung a little. I blinked away stress-tears and opened the cupboards under the sink. No towels. What kind of person didn’t keep towels under the sink? I hadn’t seen a linen closet in the hall, so I’d have to ask Harry.

The door was half open, so I just pushed it the rest of the way. “Harry, I couldn’t find--” I stopped dead as Harry, entirely devoid of clothing, turned to me with a start. I tried to focus on his face--be professional, be professional--but I couldn’t help but sneak a glance before he covered himself with a pillow quickly. 

"Harry, how did you have enough blood left in your body to maintain an erection earlier?" I blurted without thinking. He was covered in the stuff, and he'd left a bloody mark on the bed where he'd bumped against it when I startled him.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock?” Wisely, he ignored my question. 

“Sure,” I said, knowing my cheeks were apple-red. “When the door is closed. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to close doors when you change?”

“My mom died when I was born.” There was a beat, as he gave me time to regret every decision that led me to this moment, before he continued. “And I’ve been a bachelor for fifteen years. Doors are optional.” 

“Good recovery. Anyway, uh, I...I couldn’t find towels. They weren’t in the bathroom, and I didn’t see a linen closet.” 

“Laundry room. Go through the kitchen.” He moved sideways to where boxers were sitting on the floor. “Please?” 

I slammed the door on my own nose.

I walked to the kitchen in a daze. I had tried so hard not to look. I had practice not looking. I was a nurse, I'd seen more butts and dicks and boobs than a corner girl. As a nurse, you get used to that sort of thing, and you get used to not thinking about it.

I was going to think about naked Harry for a very long time. 

I found the laundry room and the stack of towels, and grabbed enough to cover the couch and a bit more. I finished laying them out just as Harry came back to the living room,l. He only had his boxers on, but he had a fuzzy blue robe clutched in his hand.

"You got most of the blood off," I said simply.

"Most of it wasn't mine, I don't think. The minotaur wasn't the only thing I had to deal with today. But I...I could still use your help, if you're willing. This one needs stitches." He pointed to his side, the worst offender.

I nodded. "I'd be happy to, Harry. Have a seat. I don't have any anesthesia, unfortunately, so this will hurt."

Harry smiled gamely. "I can't feel pain, mostly. When I, uh, pinned you against the car earlier--” we both blushed red at the memory, “--that was the Winter Mantle taking over. It’s always sort of there in the background, but when I get stressed out, it gets in the way of my good decisions. It’s basically my subconscious on steroids.”

I cleaned the wound on his side, trying to keep him talking. “How did you get it?”

“It’s a long story. I had saved an ungrateful bastard cop from a couple of vampires and their pet monster, and in response they burned my apartment building down. I fell from a window, and broke my back. I sold my soul to the Queen so she would fix it.” He’d winced when I put the needle in the first time, but after that he managed to control his expression. “My friends and I had vampires to kill. We got the bastards, too. Killed every last one of them. Remember a few years ago when a lot of politicians and famous people died or went missing suddenly? They were vampires. They’re all dead now.” 

I finished stitching. “I remember. That was a hell of a time.” 

We fell silent again as I patched his other wounds and cleaned them. I must have squeezed the blood out of my rag a dozen times. As I cleaned the blood from the scratches on his thighs (hadn’t he ever heard of denim? It would have saved him), I realized that his boxers were a little more...tent-ish than they had been when I was stitching. I accidentally brushed against it, and the noise that we both made was inhuman. 

I pulled my hand back quickly and knocked something off the table with my elbow. “Sorry.” 

“It’s...ok. Really. I, uh, I don’t mind.” 

I coughed. “I’m done. I got them all.” I stood quickly. “I’m going to pack my things up now. You can go wash off the rest of the blood and put clothes on. Cancel any plans you have for the next couple days, while you’re at it. You need to rest and heal.” I turned my back to him and packed up, my face nearly as red as the blood I’d washed off of him. Honestly, I hadn’t much minded either, but there was no way I was telling him that.

About five minutes later, he came back out. I had just put the last of my supplies back in the travel bag when he appeared, leaning casually against the wall in a Star Wars shirt that said “Scruffy-Looking Nerf Herder”.

I chuckled. “You’ve never herded a nerf a day in your life.”

“No,” he admitted, “I haven’t. But I could. I’m going to make that coffee, if you still want it.” He jerked his thumb at the kitchen.

“I’d love some. The drive home is going to suck without some caffeine. I’m lucky I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. It’s, like, three in the morning.” I watched him go into the kitchen, then gathered the towels I’d spread out.

As I walked through the kitchen on my way to the laundry room, Harry asked, “How do you like your coffee?”

“Pour me a cup of cream, and then put some coffee in it.” We laughed. “Nah, I don’t need that much cream, but for sugar, I usually put in ‘too much’ and then add a little more.”

“A woman after my own heart,” he said, putting his hands over his heart. “No way I’m letting you leave my life.”

“Is it just because you have nurse fantasies and me being an actual nurse is going to make them so much better?” I joked. 

“Not entirely,” he said defensively, then laughed. “It’s really not about that. I mean, sure, I’m going to spend a long time thinking about you whether you come back or not, but I really would like to see you again. Preferably without having to put in stitches without anesthesia or pour alcohol on every scrape on my body.” Harry paused. “Not that I’m not grateful, mind you. I’ve done a lot of very stupid things in my life, but I’ve never had to sew my own wounds shut. I’m a wuss. I’m not sure I could have done it. Thank you for helping me, especially since I was just some random stranger knocking on your door at 2am in Chicago.”

I dropped the towels off before I answered, leaning against the doorway to the laundry room. “I became a nurse to help people. What’s the point in all that schooling if I turn a blind eye to someone bleeding on my stoop? Even if God didn’t guide you to my door intentionally, I’d have to be cruel or stupid to ignore that sort of coincidence. I like to think I’m neither.”

“I can confirm that you’re not, because I’m not bleeding through my favorite shirt. And as long as I follow your instructions, I won’t start in the next couple days. Your tender care has left me in awe of you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not sure if you’re joking or not.”

He had the gall to look offended. “Me? I would never joke about being thankful. Just about everything else, yes, but not this.” He paused the coffee maker and poured a cup for me, adding significant amounts of both cream and sugar. He held it out to me, and I pushed off the door to get it. “I may be a rogue and a cad, according to some, but I have manners. I’m genuinely grateful to you for patching me up.” He turned the coffeemaker back on as I sipped, adding, “If you hadn’t opened the door, I’d probably have been a dead man. That portal into the Nevernever sapped the remains of my physical strength. It--”

“Nevernever?” I asked. “What’s the Nevernever?”

“Fairy world.” He rubbed his face. “Ugh, this is going to come back to bite me. I hate bringing mortals into this mess. If I tell you more, you have to understand that there’s no going back. The things that I tell you, they’ll change everything for you. If you want to walk out that door, never look back, and never think about the things you’ve seen, I understand and I won’t stop you. But once you know…” He trailed off, then looked straight at me. “There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” 

I raised an eyebrow. “Hamlet? Next, you’ll tell me that the queen of fairies is Mab from Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

The look on Harry’s face could have meant any number of things, none of which were good.

“No, you’re kidding. You’re joking. This is ridiculous. I mean, I know I’ve seen some shit, it’s Chicago, but…fairies?” 

“I’m serious. There are two fae courts--never call them fairies to their face--the Winter and Summer courts. Each court has three queens, the Mother, the Queen, and the Lady. Mab is the Winter Queen, and my former apprentice is the Winter Lady.”

“Minotaurs, fairies, magic...everything was simpler when the worst thing I had to deal with is druggies with hella right hooks. But my begonias got toasted last night, and the thing that did it fell through what sure as hell looked like a rip in the fabric of reality. I’m not dense enough to pretend it was some idiot with a homemade flamethrower.” I sat on the floor, suddenly exhausted despite the coffee. “I assume there are other monsters? Not just the minotaur?”

“Everything you’ve ever heard of, exists. Most of them fall under the category of ‘fae’, to some degree. Being more precise is information you don’t need right now, but yes, damn near every folk tale and myth is true, to some degree. I’ve met a Greek god, and a friend of mine talks to the Christian god.”

“You did?! Which one?” I knew that I was overly excited, but it felt like a grounding moment in this new reality I’d entered when I’d heard the minotaur roar for the first time. “Zeus? Hermes? Poseidon? Aphrodite?”

Harry’s smile was wider than Lake Michigan. “Hades.”

The only reason I didn’t fall over is because that would have spilled my coffee, and that’s a crime against God. “Nah. That’s bullshit. You would have had to go to the Underworld for that and--” His smile didn’t budge, and I trailed off. “God, your biography would be crazy. The tales someone could tell about your life.”

“My life is boring, don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. I get up to nothing, and I do nothing.” There was something innocent in his expression, and I didn’t believe it for a minute.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Hey, if you’re concerned about my pants--”

“I’ve seen what’s in your pants. Concern is not the right word.” When Harry just grinned at me, I realized what I said and blushed furiously. I stood, holding my coffee cup out to distract him. “Give me more coffee, wizard. You owe me.”

“I’m just saying, I apparently have the next couple days free if--” He laughed as I shoved my cup in his face, nearly hitting his nose. He took the cup to refill it. 

“I have more questions. Like how did you get your magic, for one.”

“Hereditary, usually. I got it from my mom. My dad was a magician, but not a wizard.”

"What's the difference?" I asked.

He handed me my coffee, then flourished his arms. "Spectacle!" he cried in a dramatic voice.

I had a very sudden thought, one that hadn’t occurred to me until he’d said that. “Spectacle? Like the kind of spectacle you get when someone rides a zombie t-rex down Sheridan?”

He tried to control his reaction, but failed. He gave a belly laugh, then winced as it pulled at the skin on his side “Alright, that was a pretty serious spectacle. And way more fun than it had any right to be, but it’s a story for another time. Right now, I need you to take a minute and think about all of this, while I’m here to help you process it.”

I did. I sat against the wall of the kitchen again, staring at the ceiling. “Magic. Chicago’s a crazy place, but I never really thought about it. I knew who you were, because I have eyes and there’s not many guys that tall, in unmistakeable dusters, throwing magic spells around. Although I thought you’d have a hat.”

“I don’t wear hats. Ever.” 

I grunted. Magic, monsters, gods, fairies...Horatio had nothing on my revelations. He had ghosts, and I had a whole new mythology to contend with. “What does this change for me? In the end?”

“If you have no magic, and keep your head down, it mostly doesn’t. The wizards I answer to don’t really pay attention to mortals, and the fairies won’t interfere if you don’t change what you do. There’s more, a lot more, but for the most part, that’s the important stuff.” He sat in front of me, leaning against the dishwasher. 

I held my coffee in both hands, sipping it slowly. “More. Alright, I guess I don’t have a choice. I’m in this now, you said, I need to know everything. But not right now, my head is already spinning. I have a couple specific questions, though, if you don’t mind.”

He gestured. “Shoot.”

“Did your mom really die when you were a baby?”

“Killed by a jilted ex-lover with a curse, actually."

I whistled sadly. “That’s awful, Harry, I’m sorry.” Not knowing what else to say, I took my freshly creamed and sugared coffee, draining it in one long pull. "How does that kind of magic work? Is it just wiggling your fingers and boom, someone's cursed?"

"It's a little more complicated than that, fortunately. My mom got on the wrong side of one of the biggest players in the supernatural world at the time, and it cost her her life."

I was overwhelmed by an urge to hug him, and he accepted the gesture gracefully. He patted my back carefully, not wanting to spill either my cup of coffee or his. 

"I don't want to say it doesn't matter anymore, because you never really get over that kind of thing. But I got what revenge I could on the man that did it, and...it didn't help. It didn't fix anything. But at least I had closure. At the end of the day, I can look back and say that I honored her memory and kicked his ass."

"Would that we could all say that about those we've lost," I muttered, more to myself than him as I stepped away. “I’ve lost a lot of patients and family members to causes natural and unnatural, and it never gets easier. It’s kind of hard to kick influenza’s ass, or beat the shit out of sepsis.” I chuckled at my own joke. “Pun intended.”

"Hey, it's not all bad, though. Wizards get to live basically forever, and we can heal just about any injury with enough time." He held up his left hand, which--now that he mentioned it--looked scarred as hell. "It's almost as good as it used to be."

I was impressed. "Ain't that a trick. Those look like burn scars. Healing a burn bad enough to scar must be real nice.” I set my coffee down and grabbed his hand, inspecting it in a very nurse-ly way. I manipulated his fingers and prodded the skin, amazed at the responsiveness of the scar tissue. “If it weren’t for the scar tissue, I’d think you never got hurt.”

“Oh, believe me, I got hurt. Couple of vamps with flamethrowers found out my magic shield at the time only blocked kinetic attacks, bullets and stuff, and burned the hell out of my hand with hot air. Killed all the nerves, nearly melted the skin right off.” “That was probably seven or eight years ago, maybe more.” He paused with a grimace. “What a year. That was actually the year I...you know what, that’s an awful lot of story for 3 am and no alcohol.”

“Maybe next time?”

“Maybe.” There was a moment of silence, and then we realized at the same time that I was still holding his hand. I blushed and let go, pulling my hands back too quickly. His hand fell slowly to his side, as though he’d have preferred to leave it in mine.

I shook my head to clear those thoughts. “I should go. Really.” I should definitely not be thinking about holding hands, or any other body parts, or anything related to Harry’s body parts.

We walked towards the living room, and he stopped at the edge of the kitchen while I grabbed my bag. “There’s not much else that’s critically important for you to know, except for this,” he said, following my lead in not mentioning the hand-holding. “Never say a fairy’s name if you can help it, and never look a wizard in the eyes. Any practitioner, really. If you do, you get what’s called a soulgaze. You see into that person’s soul, and they see into yours. You see what they’re really made of, and you never forget what you see--for good or bad. It’s not something you do lightly.”

That certainly explained why he’d never met my eyes this whole time. I’d had the distinct impression he was staring at my ear, or my eyebrow, or my nose, but never in my eyes. “I understand.” 

“Then I guess there’s only one thing left. Are you coming back soon?”

“Well,” I said, looking at the ground for a moment to gather strength. He’d dropped an awful lot on me, and the question seemed to carry more weight than it might otherwise have. “The truth is, I do think I’d kind of like to see you again, even if wizards are apparently dangerous. But I have some conditions.” I stared at his nose, in lieu of the eye contact he’d told me to avoid.

“What are they?”

“One, you really do have to stay here and rest for the next couple days. That rib especially could use the time to heal.” He nodded. “Second, you have to promise to eat the food I make.” 

“Of course. That’s a given,” he laughed.

“And third, you have to kiss me right now.” We both blinked. I hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud. 

“I mean, if that’s the price for homemade food, I guess I can handle it.” The faux jocularity wasn’t lost on me, but it didn’t sound like he really objected. He was just surprised.

That’s alright, so was I.

He came over to me slowly, advancing more like a predator than anyone had a right to. He brushed my bag off my shoulder, and I let it fall to the ground. I looked up at him as he gripped my arms. Being seven feet tall was just ridiculous. Unnecessary. Unreasona--

He kissed me like a man on fire. Or maybe I was on fire. Or maybe the building was. It was really warm all of a sudden, and I wasn’t sure if it was his embrace or the room. He didn’t wait for me to grant his tongue entrance to my mouth, but just insisted that I let him in. 

I did so with a small gasp, and his arms went around me. Pinning me in again with his arms, he plundered my mouth like it belonged to him. I sighed, and the way he was rubbing my spine almost turned it into a moan. 

I leaned into him and kissed him back with equal passion. Eventually, we had to stop to breathe. “That’ll do. I suppose I can come back,” I said weakly. 

“Good. I’ll stay here and rest, like you told me to.” He didn’t sound like he was in any better shape.

I moved away and grabbed my bag. He had his arm around me until we got to the door, then he opened it for me. “Y’all come back now, y’all, ya hear?”

“Of course. Someone’s got to feed you pierogies.” I laughed and walked the winding way back to my car. It was going to be a long couple of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are waiting for Pied Piper updates, there is both a Pied Piper Boogaloo story in the works and another chapter for the Halloween fic. I haven't forgotten you.


End file.
